Begin Again
by skyefairie
Summary: Hermione goes with Viktor Krum to the Yule Ball, but a certain someone catches her eye. 8 months later, that certain someone find her crying while on prefect duty. A strange romance blossoms. Loosely based on Taylor Swift's song "Begin Again" Rated T for safety
1. Chapter 1 - Deep Breath

Hermione sighed as she looked herself up and down in the spotted full-length mirror that stood against her wall, held steady by a well cast sticking charm. The soft light cast by her bedroom light sank into her hair, making it glow a deep gold, and her eyes shone brightly. She was clad in a simple pale periwinkle-blue dress made of a floaty material. It was set off by lapis teardrop earrings and a pair of heels.

She liked heels, even if he didn't, and as much as she liked him, she wasn't going to change just to please the boy. _The boy_. It was strange to be referring to him in her head this way already. It informed her of the end of the relationship when it had barely begun. But still, she wasn't going to change just for him.

Taking a deep breath she picked up her bag just as there came a knock on the door. Ginny put her head round it. He eyes widened at the sight of Hermione.

'Wow, you look amazing,' she breathed, her eyes taking in every bit of her best friend's attire. 'You're going to be the beauty of the night.' She herself was dressed in a low cut cream coloured frock and she had wound some gold ribbon in her hair.

Hermione smiled nervously as she fingered he smooth, straight hair which she had twisted up into an elegant knot at the back of her head. 'Thanks Ginny.'

Ginny walked over and grabbed her friend's hand. 'Come on! Or we'll be late!'

'Ok, ok, I'm coming,' she laughed and followed Ginny from the room. She heart was pounding furiously. She was so nervous. What would people think when they saw the little bookworm all dressed up like this? Would they laugh and jeer at her sheer nerve? A million thought raced through her head as she descended the stairs, and suddenly all she felt like doing was turning around and fleeing back up to her room. But of course she couldn't. She had to be strong. She had to forget her inhibitions, if only for one night.

The time seemed to disappear far too fast from the point from when they left the room to when they arrived in the common room. By the time Hermione stepped into the cosy, bustling room she was seriously reconsidering going to the Yule Ball at all.

Several head turned in their direction as the two girls entered and Hermione blushed as someone wolf whistled loudly. Several girls whispered as she walked by and Hermione caught the words, 'Honestly' 'Hermione Granger?' and '... dressed like that'.

'Ignore them,' said Ginny, who was grinning widely and steering Hermione towards the portrait hole. 'They're just jealous.'

Hermione smoothed her dress down and stepped quickly through the portrait hole, tottering slightly in her heels –

And suddenly she was descending the marble staircase and there he was, smiling up at her, dressed in deep red robes. Viktor Krum.

She hadn't liked him at first. On the contrary she had disliked all the attention he gain from girls that interrupted she study time, when he spent time in the library. His surly demeanour was hardly very becoming either and it had taken her a while to warm up to him after he began talking to her when she was without Harry or Ron. Nevertheless, when he asked her to the ball she had been thrilled, and now the mere sight of him caused butterflies to erupt in her stomach; small ones – maybe more like moths – but fluttering nevertheless. And this was exactly the feeling that shot through her as Viktor took her hand and kissed it.

'Hi,' she said, smiling nervously.

'Good evening Her-mi-own.' His voice was deep and gentle. 'Shall we go?'

Her took her arm and propelled her towards the doors that opened into the great hall. Several heads turned as they passed and Viktor's fan club, Hermione noted with slight satisfaction, we're all looking furious. The pair joined the rest of the champions and their partners, standing to the left of the doors as the rest of the school filed into the hall.

Harry was standing beside Parvati, who was dressed in robes of shocking pink and looking very pretty indeed. His expression of shock at the sight of Hermione quickly changed to a grin and a nod of approval and Hermione found a smile creeping over her face. Cho and Cedric were standing near to doors, Cedric leaning against the wall, completely at ease. Fleur and Roger Davies stood a little apart from the other, talking softly.

Turning from the champions, Hermione surveyed the crowed streaming into the great hall. There were wild splashes of colour here and there. She saw Lavender Brown of the arm of Dean Thomas, dressed in a lacy black dress. A very pretty Hufflepuff with dark brown hair was looking stunning in a deep red dress and elegant heels. Hermione was just about to turn back to Viktor when he appeared, and her stomach – to everlasting surprise and horror – did a backwards somersault at the sight of him.

His sleek blond hair fell around his face, framing his pale, angular features. He was dressed in black robes with a high collar and a very frilly, very pink Pansy Parkinson was clutching his arm. Crabbe and Goyle both dressed in moss-green robes lumbered along behind, both date-less.

Hermione took an instinctive step back as Malfoy caught sight of her. His eyes widened and surprise flickered across them. Something else also crossed his pale face. Something remarkably like –

But before she had a change to figure it out, he had swept past her into the hall and Professor McGonagall was ushering the champions into a line. Her heart began to pound again and perhaps she was clutching Viktor's arm a little too tightly, because he turned to her with a smile and said, 'Are you alright? There's no need to be nervous you know.'

She took a deep breath and felt herself visibly relax. 'Of course.' She smiled up at him then stumbled forward as a lilting, gentle tune wafted from the doors and Fleur and Roger, who were positioned just in front of her, lead them into the hall.

Their entrance was met by enthusiastic applause from the school. Hermione felt a hundred eyes on her as she made her way to the far end of the hall where tables had been set out. She sat down next to Viktor and proceeded to have a very enjoyable dinner, throughout which she taught him how pronounce her name properly – they got as far as Herm-own-ninny before she decided that it was good enough. The meal ended and an excited hush filled the hall. As Hermione look around at the stage she caught sight of Malfoy, just a few tables away – watching her. The moment he saw her watching his head whipped back to Pansy and he swiftly wove her into conversation. Hermione had no time to dwell on the strange behaviour because Viktor was pulling her to her feet and motioning towards the deserted dance floor.

'Come,' he said, as Hermione looked at him, puzzled. 'We're supposed to dance.'

Hermione went pink. 'Oh yes, of course,' she muttered, standing and allowing him to navigate her to the dance floor.

The Weird Sisters trooped onto stage to wildly enthusiastic applause, equipped with violins, cellos, guitars, a levitating piano and a drum kit. After a pause, in which the champions quickly got into position, and Viktor took Hermione's waist, they struck up a slow waltz and suddenly all worries of spectators – who included one Draco Malfoy – were swept from her mind. All there was in this room was the music and Viktor's smiling face.

The song ended to a smattering of polite applause. To Hermione's amusement, Harry hurried quickly from the dance floor, followed by a distinctly disgruntled Parvati.

What seemed like the rest of the school marched onto the dance floor as the band struck up a new song, which was much more lively than the first and by the time it ended Hermione was breathless and laughing.

'Let us get a drink,' said Viktor, taking her hand and leading her away from the dancers. Hermione beamed at him.

As the crossed the hall, she spotted Harry and Ron sitting at a table. She excused herself from Viktor momentarily and went to join them.

'Hi,' said Harry as she swung herself into the empty chair beside him. Ron didn't say anything. His face was stony.

'It's hot, isn't it?' she said, fanning herself. 'Viktor's gone to get drinks.'

Ron looked at her sharply. '_Viktor_?' he said. 'Hasn't he asked you to call him _Vicky_ yet?'

Hermione jerked back. This was completely unlike Ron. But she was having far too great a time to let Ron spoil it for her, so she said in a falsely cheery voice, 'What's up with you?'

'If you don't know,' said Ron scathingly, 'I'm not going to tell you.'

Hermione stared at him, then at Harry, who shrugged. 'Ron, what –'

What followed left Hermione blinking back angry tears and sharp retorts as Ron went on about the – non-existent – enmity between Durmstrang and Hogwarts, how she, Hermione, was just a tool for Krum to get closer to Harry. After several minutes Hermione stood up and stormed away, her eyes burning with unshed tears. Rather than embarrass herself by bursting into tears in the middle of the packed and noisy hall, she fled into the entrance hall, gasping and willing herself to calm down. She felt tears threatening to spill over and smear away the makeup she had taken hours to perfect. Sniffing, she tilted her head back and stared at the dark ceiling. Wasn't that what people always said? Distract yourself, look up. That should stop the tears.

'Arrgghh!"

She jumped wildly as someone put their hand on her shoulder. She hadn't heard anyone approaching.

'Herm-own-ninny? Are you alright?'

Viktor, of course; how could she have forgotten about her date? Turning, she attempted a watery smile. He was holding two butterbeers. 'Viktor! Oh, I'm so sorry. I got a bit distracted and –'

'Don't vorry about it. Vould you like to go for a valk?' He gestured to the open oak front door which led out into a twinkling rose garden. She nodded and he handed her a butterbeer as they descended the steps. They wondered through the quaint pathways that wound through the rose bushes, chatting amiably about the food, the music, the roses.

Viktor suddenly stopped. They had reached a stone bench in a quiet little corner of the garden. The music from the great hall could barely be heard now. They were surrounded by the chirping of crickets and a cold breeze. Hermione sat down and surveyed the young man who had so gallantly asked her to the ball.

He was handsome. With his strong boned features and dark hair. She had been flattered when he had asked her to the dance. But was he really what she was looking for?

_Looking for_! Honestly, why was she thinking like this? There were far more important things in life than potential soul mates... at least in her life. She had her OWLs coming up the following year and –

But suddenly everything was wiped clean from her mind as Viktor leaned in and kissed her gently. And although her first kiss had her heart pounding in frenzy, although the young man whose lips were pressed to hers was one of the most famous – and handsome – Quidditch players in Europe, although they were surrounded by softly falling snow, rose bushes and glittering fairies, Hermione could not help but feel something was missing. Something, she knew, was not missing with a certain grey-eyed, blond-haired Slytherin.


	2. Chapter 2 - But I Do

**Hi all. Thanks so much for the reviews, much appreciated! Please do the same for this chapter! I'd love some feedback.**

**This is my first fanfic by the way, so bear with me! Here's the next chapter. Now it gets interesting!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters – although I dearly wish I did. It all belongs to the amazing Jo Rowling. I do not own Taylor Swift's song lyrics either. I own nothing but the plot.**

Chapter 2: But I Do

**Ten months later (5****th**** Year)**

The sun just set. Its dying rays had stained the castle a deep red before swathing it in shadows. The common room was packed and noisy. Fred and George were advertising their Skiving Snackboxes to an animated crowed of admirers who seemed to think nothing was more entertaining than watching the redhead twins vomiting spectacularly into a cauldron, or repeatedly toppling over in a dead faint.

Hermione was sitting stiffly in an armchair near the fire; a pair of knitting needles clicking away beside her, producing yet another hat which, Harry was sure, would end up joining Dobby's collection. Harry and Ron were bent over their Divination homework, quills scratching swiftly over their parchment, pausing now and then thoughtfully.

Ron looked up irritably as Hermione heaved another sigh, clearly audible over the sound of vomit hitting the bottom of Fred ad George's cauldron.

'If it's annoying you so much why don't you just go and stop them?' he asked, taking the opportunity to flex his stiff fingers.

Hermione scowled. 'I can't stop them using the stupid things on themselves. They aren't exactly breaking any rules.'

'Well, then quit all the sighing, Harry and I are trying to concentrate.' Uncharacteristically studious, Ron turned back to his essay.

Hermione checked her watch. It was almost eight. 'We've got rounds to do in ten minutes anyway,' she said, standing up and smoothing out the creases in her plaid shirt.

Ron looked up, horrified. 'Oh, please can you cover for me? Just for tonight?'

'Absolutely not!' Hermione snapped. 'I've had enough of you skiving off every second week!'

'Look at this,' Ron bellowed, thrusting his parchment under her nose. 'I've got twenty more inches and it's due tomorrow! Come on, Hermione, please.'

'_Fine!_' Hermione spat. 'But you owe me!' And with that she turned on her heel and stormed out of the portrait hole. She was halfway down the hall before she stopped to catch her breath – and temper, before it could get out of hand.

To be honest, she didn't particularly mind doing Ron's rounds, it gave her an excuse to roam the castle for longer – a pleasure she enjoyed each evening. It gave her quiet time to just stroll and fall deep into her thoughts. Her life was so busy, what with her upcoming OWLs and immense workload being piled upon her, she had little to time to simply _think_.

But that was what she did now, and before she knew it, her unruly thoughts had lead themselves right into the topic of Viktor Krum. It had been eight months since they had called off their relationship. It had lasted barely two months before, on a cold, rainy February evening, Viktor had pulled her aside and explained, none too gently, why this wasn't working for him. And while she had nodded bravely and smiled and agreed, she had cried herself to sleep that night.

It was hard enough being the Gryffindor know-it all, without having been rejected by Viktor. Hard enough bearing the taunts and jeer thrown at her when Rita Skeeter had written that article about her in _Witch Weekly_. The first thing that had been going right in her life in a long time had been ripped away in the blink of an eye.

It had taken time to heal. A long time. Many sleepless nights had passed before she could think of the Bulgarian Quidditch player without feeling a lump rise to her throat. Even now, eight months later, roaming the corridors of the quiet castle brought memories rushing back. Memories of stolen kisses in dark corners. Conversations, softly spoken, as they sat in tranquil silence of the library.

So caught up in her thoughts, Hermione barely noticed where she was going, until she found herself in the Astronomy tower – the scene of yet another romantic late-night stroll. And as strong as she had become over the last few months, as many walls she had put up around her heart, the mere sight of this place brought tears, stinging, hot tears, coursing down her cheeks.

She slid down the wall, into the vague impression of a sitting position. A crumpled, sobbing girl at the top of the Astronomy tower in the middle of the night.

The moon had risen, and was now high above Hogwarts' battlements, shedding an eerie silver glow onto the world. A full moon. A blue moon, in fact. It was the second one this month. Didn't people usually say strange things happened on a blue moon? But Hermione was not a superstitious girl. No, hadn't she proved that when she had stormed from Trelawney's class in her third year? And yet something was really quiet mysterious about her current predicament. A crying girl, all alone on the highest tower of Hogwarts, under a full moon. _Oh wonderful_, she thought irritably, sniffing and wiping her eyes on the back of her hand, _now I'm getting sentimental. All I need now is for someone to find me._

And, unfortunately, how events seem to go when you're feeling as miserable as humanely possible, that was exactly what happened; and by the most unlikely person imaginable.

Draco stopped short at the sight of a sniffing, sobbing huddle curled up against the wall. Her face has hidden in her arms but it was impossible to miss her unmistakable bushy brown hair.

'Granger?'

Hermione gasped and looked up. Her face was red and blotchy and she had tearstains glittering on her cheeks.

She hadn't heard him climbing the stairs to the tower. His white-blond hair shone brightly in the moonlight and his eyes, usually so cold and grey, glowed brightly. He looked tired and wan, though. His hair was rumpled and untidy – and strangely attractive, Hermione found herself thinking.

She sniffed and looked up at him. 'What?' she muttered, furious that he had found her in this state. 'What are you doing here?'

Malfoy raised his eyebrows and looked her up and down. 'I might ask you the same thing.' Hermione squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze, horribly aware of how dishevelled she must look. Malfoy suddenly squinted at her and took a step nearer. 'Granger, are you – crying?'

Oh why did the tears have to come back now? _Why?_ She scrubbed her sleeve angrily across her eyes.

'No,' she said forcefully, but the fresh tears now leaking out of her eyes somehow contradicted her. 'Fine, yes. But why do you even care? Come to have a gloat, have you? Couldn't resist another chance to poke fun a stupid little Granger girl?' Her voice was rising shrilly as more tears streamed down her face. 'You don't even –'

'Granger... Granger, calm down.'

Hermione stopped short; and it wasn't because he interrupted her, it was because of the gentle tone in which he spoke. A tone, mere hours ago, she could have sworn he was not capable of.

Unaware of her shock, Draco went on. 'I'm not here to have a go at you. I was on my prefect rounds. Granger – are you ok?' There was something like concern in his eyes that made her heart falter slightly.

She stared up at him through watery, deep brown eyes, and sniffed again. 'Does it look like I'm ok?' Her voice had a hard edge to it. 'I don't see why you care anyway.'

To her surprise, the tall blond made his way over to her and crouched down beside her slim form. When she didn't look up from her lap he sighed and lowered himself into a sitting position, leaning against the cold stone wall. He was so close Hermione could feel his body heat through her think cotton shirt.

After a minute or two of taught silence, he spoke. 'You can talk to me, you know.'

Hermione stared at him. His cheeks coloured slightly but he did not break their gaze. 'Since when?' Hermione retorted, shifting her position slightly so that she was no longer huddled. 'Since when can I _talk to you? _You've never shown me any decency – let alone compassion!' She lowered her voice suspiciously. 'What do you want from me?'

She studied him closely. Up close he looked even paler and wan than usual. But there was utmost sincerity in his eyes when he said, 'Nothing. I don't want anything from you.' He turned away and began to rise. Before she knew what she was doing, Hermione shot out a hand and grabbed him by the elbow, stalling him.

'Wait! Don't go.'

Draco stared at her.

she did not admit it to him – she could barely admit it to herself – but there was something comforting about his presence, and she found herself wishing that there wasn't years of built-up resentment between them, and that she could simply spill all her fears and woes to him. But of course she couldn't. So when he asked her why, she shrugged – but that seemed to be enough for him. He sat back down beside her.

'So do you want to talk about it?' he repeated.

She shook her heard.

'Right.'

They sat in silence for a couple of minutes. Hermione's mind was whirling. What was she doing? Why was she talking to Draco Malfoy, of all people? The trio's sworn enemy who had spent the last four years finding every opportunity to throw insults at her – the filthy little mudblood. The bushy-haired know-it-all. The ridiculous friend of famous Harry Potter and pathetic Ron Weasley.

Before she when what was happening she had opened her mouth – and suddenly her whole sad predicament spilled out. From the beginning to the end. Every feeling she had ever felt, from the initial butterflies to the final, heart-wrenching pain and sadness. It all poured from her mouth like some inexorable stream. Because once she started she could not stop. There was nothing she could do but talk, and let it all out. Eight months of bottled up emotions. Eight months of crying quietly into her pillow. Eight months of confused and heart-wrenching feelings. Her fragile secret was trusted to none other than Draco Malfoy.

'And now I've been spending these last eight months thinking all love ever does is break... and burn and _end!_' She stopped suddenly. She had run out of words. She turned to look at the boy beside her and found her gazing at her with the strangest expression on his face. But she could not place it. He was like a closed book. Impossible to read. But how she would love to be able to read him.

There was silence for a while and then Malfoy said softly, 'So you loved him?'

Hermione jerked. Of all the things she had expected him to say, this certainly was not it.

'I... well... I don't know. For a moment it sort of seemed like it – but I don't know. It's too complicated – all of it.'

'Love isn't that complicated.'

'Oh?'

'Yeah, it's more – pure and sudden and _there!_ The aftermath is complicated – but if you loved him, you would know.'

'Oh.'

It seemed the strangest thing, to be sitting here, on the Astronomy tower, under the moonlight, discussing something as deep as love with Draco Malfoy. But somehow it felt right. As if sharing her feelings with him had been the most obvious thing to do. She was almost surprised she hadn't spoken to him before.

Glancing at her watched, she jumped. It was already 10:30. She was supposed to have been back in Gryffindor tower an hour ago!

She leapt to her feet. 'I've got to go.'

Draco stood up too, still surveying her strangely. He suddenly looked awkward. 'Granger, would you mind if we – if we don't talk to anyone else about this... this little meeting we had?'

Hermione suddenly, bizarrely, felt as giggle rise up in her chest. Fighting to keep and straight face she said evenly, 'Of course. We can't have your reputation as a muggle-hating, snide Slytherin be ruined by the fact that you just offered comfort to a sobbing Hermione Granger at the top of the Astronomy tower. No, no, that wouldn't do at all.'

And then to Hermione's everlasting surprise, Draco threw back his head and laughed; laughed like a little boy. Had Hermione not been there to witness it, she would never have believed he was capable of such a beautiful sound. It was rich and warm and lovely beyond compare. And his face lit up in a way she had never seen it before.

She let out a reluctant giggle.

'Ok, I've got to go.' She turned away but –

'Wait!'

She turned and looked into his grey eyes curiously.

'You know, however amazing you think they are,' Draco said softly. 'No one's worth your tears.' As if unaware of what he was doing, he reached out and touched her tear stained cheek gently. Hermione flinched at the unexpected touch and Draco withdrew his hand as though he had been burned, a pale blush colouring his cheeks.

'Goodnight, Draco.' And she turned away, heart pounding and hurried down the stairs. But not before she heard his words, barely more than a whisper –

'Goodnight... Hermione...'


	3. Chapter 3 - It's Strange

**Hi all. Thank you so much for the reviews and all the follows and favs. I so appreciate it. If any of you Potterheads are, in fact, also fans of Lord of the Rings, please take a look at my other fanfic "A New Life". Also, I've started a new Dramione fanfic – in addition to this one – based post Hogwarts... called ****_Mine_****. If that perhaps interests you!**

**So here's the next chapter! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters – although I dearly wish I did. It all belongs to the amazing Jo Rowling.**

Chapter 3: It's Strange

The following day dawned leaden and rainy. Hermione was woken several hours earlier than she would have liked by an ecstatic Lavender, who appeared to have received a letter from an admirer and wasted no time in informing the entire dormitory of it in a shrill, excited voice, at ten to five in the morning.

Hermione groaned and rolled over, pulling a pillow over her head to muffle Lavender's thrilled squeals and attempting to drop back off to sleep. But to no avail. Half an hour later, having finally reached the unfortunate conclusion that her morning lie in was cancelled, Hermione rose and dressed swiftly before making her way down to the empty common room and falling into a squashy armchair near the vacant fireplace.

She was tired, puffy-eyed and tousle-haired from the previous night's escapades. She had not drifted off to sleep until past midnight, having lain in bed for over an hour after she had re-entered the tower, turning the situation over and over in her mind until she simply could not stand it anymore.

As she sat, curled up in the armchair, a hundred questions resurfaced in her mind. What had really happened last night with Malfoy? Why had he been so kind as to offer her comfort when he had barely ever done anything but throw jeering insults in her face before? What was the strange attraction she had felt when she saw him, bathed in moonlight, at the top of the tower? Was she falling for Draco Malfoy? No, surely not. Of all things in this world that were least likely to take place, that was most certainly one of them.

And why did he touch her face before she left? The brief contact had left her skin burning and her mind whirling for hours afterwards. It seemed the strangest, most distant impossibility – Draco Malfoy showing her compassion. Even now, hours afterwards, she still wasn't quite sure if it hadn't all been a strange dream.

She didn't know how long she sat there, curled up like a bushy haired cat, caught up in her own thoughts, but the next thing she knew, people were descending the spiral staircases into the common room and heading off for breakfast.

Glancing at her watch, she was shocked to see that it was already seven o'clock. Hermione leapt to her feet, snatched up her bag and hurried out the portrait hole after a group of chattering second years.

She entered the great hall and made her way up the narrow isle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. Scanning the hall for Harry and Ron, Hermione caught a glimpse of Draco at the far end of the room. Their eyes caught and held for a split second and Hermione felt her stomach lurch pleasantly. But a second later Draco turned away, engaging Crabbe in conversation and Hermione continued up the table to join Harry and Ron.

Perhaps some of her pleasure at the sight of Draco showed on her face, because as she sat down opposite Harry and Ron and poured herself some coffee, Ron asked, 'What are you so happy about?'

Hermione quickly racked her brains for a suitable answer. 'The hats have all gone,' she said simply. 'Seems the house-elves do want freedom after all.'

'I wouldn't bet on it,' Ron told her cuttingly. ' They might not count as clothes. They didn't look anything like hats to me, more like woolly bladders.'

Hermione mentally resolved not to talk to him the for rest of the morning. It was true, she admitted to herself, that the hats were a little knobbly. But – woolly bladders indeed! – Ron had no right to criticise her work.

She piled toast onto her plate and set about buttering it. Munching on her breakfast, her eyes strayed to the Slytherin table. To her surprise she found Draco watching her but the moment she saw him, his grey eyes flicked away and she was left feeling a little disappointed. Why, though? Was she disappointed that he wasn't greeting her now every time they met? Was she disappointed that they hadn't become overnight friends after the little moment they had shared last night? Because such notions were ridiculous, she told herself firmly. Why else would he have asked her to keep her mouth shut about the tower if not to pretend that nothing had happened, so he could continue to uphold his cold and lofty demeanour – but now that she had been another side to him, it was very difficult to forget.

The bell rang and there was a scuffle and much scraping of benches as the hall emptied and the school hurried off to their respective classes.

'What do we have now?' Harry asked as they climbed the marble staircase, lagging behind and very loud, slow-moving group of Ravenclaw girls who, in their seemingly vast numbers, had blocked the entire breadth of the staircase.

'Double Charms,' said Hermione shortly, before hurrying ahead and pushing through the Ravenclaws. By the time Harry and Ron reached Professor Flitwick's classroom she was already seated at a table with Parvati and Lavender, leaving Harry and Ron to sit without her.

'Couldn't you have just given her a break?' Hermione heard Harry say as the boys sat down just behind her.

'It's not my fault she takes everything so personally,' said Ron testily. 'And Harry, mate, you've got to admit, those hats –'

'Just shut up, won't you,' snapped Harry, and Hermione felt a sudden rush of affection for her friend.

Double Charms was followed by double Transfiguration. During the duration of both lessons, both Professors Flitwick and McGonagall impressed upon the fifth years the importance of their upcoming OWLs and how it affected their career choices in the future.

Lunch was a irritable affair for Hermione, who, having refused to join Ron and Harry in the library as they struggled to get back up to date with their immense amount of homework, spent the allotted hour at the Gryffindor table with Parvati and Lavender, having to endure their endless accounts on a wide variety of gossip that did not interest Hermione in the slightest.

Lunch was followed by Care of Magical Creatures, with the Slytherins. A notion that perked her up slightly as it was chance to be, once again, in close proximity to Draco and try to figure out exactly what had occurred the previous night.

Not wanting to be rude, Hermione endured the brisk walk down the sloping lawns to Hagrid's cabin with Lavender and Parvati, offering up a vague 'Hmmm?' or 'Oh really?' when necessary. The day had become cool and breezy and Hermione relished the chance to be outside.

Upon arriving at Hagrid's cabin, the class found Professor Grubbly-Plank standing behind a long table of what appeared to Hermione to be Bowtruckles. Obviously Hagrid had not yet returned.

Hermione heard a shout of laughter behind her and turned to see Draco joining the group along with Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy Parkinson. The sight of the pug-faced girl in Draco's midst made Hermione feel faintly sick. Draco seemed to be avoiding her eyes.

Once Professor Grubbly-Plank's lecture of the Bowtruckles was over, Hermione, unable to stand another moment in the presence of the giggling Parvati and Lavender, decided to join Harry and Ron to draw and label her Bowtruckle. They were crouched on the grass close to Draco's group, who were sniggering heartily at something he had just said. She had a feeling it was to do with Hagrid.

Trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach, she sat down cross-legged beside the boys who were struggling to keep their Bowtruckles still for long enough to draw them. Harry was fuming at Malfoy.

'If he calls Hagrid a moron one more time...' He snarled.

Hermione winced as this confirmed her fears – that Malfoy was indeed the same person he had been all along. What had she been thinking, wondering if he had really changed since last night? Honestly, it was pathetic.

'Harry,' she said patiently, trying to keep the pain from her voice, 'don't go picking a row with Malfoy, don't forget, he's a prefect now, he could make life difficult for you...'

'Wow, I wonder what it'd be like to have a difficult life,' said Harry sarcastically. Ron laughed but Hermione frowned and didn't say another word until the bell rang. In the flurry of people clearing up their diagrams and bags, Hermione felt a hand close around her wrist, turned and found herself looking right into the cool grey eyes of Draco Malfoy.

'I need to talk to you,' he said, so softly Hermione had to lean forward slightly to hear him properly. 'Hang back after class, will you.'

For a split second Hermione considered refusing, jerking her arm out of his grip and walking but up the grounds with Harry and Ron – but she didn't. Instead she nodded and walked off to return her Bowtruckle to Professor Grubbly-Plank.

Under the pretext of sorting through some books in her bag to find a slot for her diagram, Hermione managed to hang back until the rest of the chattering group was halfway back to the castle, leaving just her, Malfoy and Professor Grubbly-Plank, who didn't spare them a half-glance.

Finally straightening up from her bag, Hermione turned to Draco who was standing some ten yards away, looking awkward. Swinging her heavy bag over her shoulder she took a couple of steps towards him, examining him quizzically. Draco glanced meaningfully at Professor Grubbly-Plank and motioned for her to follow him. A few moments later, he stopped at the edge of the forest and turned to her.

'Look Granger –'

'Granger?' The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. 'I thought we were on first name terms now?' Her voice could have frozen the lake at midsummer. She didn't know why she was treating him like this. Perhaps it was because he had spent the last lesson criticising Hagrid in a loud voice. Of perhaps it was the fact that, after the strange events of last night, he hadn't bothered to even meet her eyes properly that day.

Draco took a step back, shocked at her tone. 'Granger... Hermione, I just wanted to talk to you about –'

'About what? How you've been avoiding me all day? How you've been calling Hagrid a moron for the last hour and a half. You know Malfoy, it may not have occurred to you, but you have been treating me like dirt for the past four years, and one evening at the top of the Astronomy tower with me as a miserable wreck hasn't changed that.'

Draco looked as if she had slapped him. And indeed she wanted to – with all the strength she could muster. How dare he come and think he could just talk to her like this after how he had acted?

'You know, for a couple of hours last night, I actually thought you might not actually be that bad – but obviously I was deeply mistaken.' She turned on her heel, ready to march away – but his voice stopped her. It was soft ad gentle and sounded, strangely, close to tears.

'I only came to talk to you now because –'

Hermione whirled back around. 'Yeah? Why?'

His next words were barely audible.

'Because I'm sorry.'

**Ok so there it is! Please, please, please review! Stay wonderful! Skye x**


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